Not so bad for 24 hours

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joylani 130pxWe took another overnight bus last night, and arrived at our destination in ok shape. We checked out of our little room at a losman at noon, and walked to the ticket agency where we caught a ride by SUV to a bus garage. The floor on the bus was still wet from being mopped, and I was glad to find that the bus looked pretty clean. The automatic dispensers of air freshener above the seats worried me a little. I just don’t like an overly fruity car, and the idea of breathing in chemicals all night wasn’t too appealing. I thought about what was worse: below-freezing temperatures of Malaysian AC or an overdose of air freshener. I decided the latter was worse and tried (without luck) to see if I could shut off the dispenser. We were the first ones on the bus, and worried about how long it would take before the bus would actually leave. Surprisingly, we didn’t wait too long, but to our dismay upon leaving the garage the bus drove around Yogya for over an hour picking up passengers.

Finally, we were out of town, and the bus felt like it was finally going somewhere far away. I discovered that the foot rest attached to my seat actually popped up 90 degrees, parallel to the floor. Nice. Even though I couldn’t completely “kick my feet up,” since my legs are longer than 18 inches, it was definitely more comfortable having this seat extension. I caught a glimpse of the Prambanan ruins, and a little bit later the bus stopped at outside of a bus station for more passengers to climb on board. As we waited, a man with a guitar boarded from the front entrance. He began strumming, and then he started to sing. “Hmm,” I thought, “this is new.” He held out a container for donations as he left the bus. Another performer took his place. This one was a cappella, sputtering spit, and definitely worse than the first act. He shoved a bag in our faces. I don’t know why (maybe to make him stop), but Matt gave him a few small bills. Other salespeople boarded with trays filled with drinks and snacks. A man touched my arm with a steamed bun so that I could feel it was nice and warm. “Why would you want to buy a bun that he’s been putting on people’s arms?” Matt retorted, irritated with the long bus stop.

Soon with all singers and sellers off the bus, passengers settled into their seats, and our bus started rolling again. The bus maneuvered past other cars on a narrow road elevated above rice paddies. The sun slipped down the horizon and I into sleep. When I awoke, the bus had stopped for dinner. We were handed meal tickets and followed the crowds into a large dining area. Exchanging the ticket for a bowl, I walked towards the chafers and cautiously examined the food. I put some steamed rice, a splash of noodles, and a spoonful of a mystery tofu dish into my bowl. It was surprisingly and delightfully good, at least the tofu and rice. Back on the bus, Matt and I shared some wafer cookies before tucking in for the night. I awoke early in the morning when the bus stopped to board a ferry. As before, vendors hopped on board eager to sell their goods. Unfortunately for one guy, no one seemed to want to buy sunglasses at this early hour. Matt slept through the stop, and soon I fell back to sleep.

The next time I woke up we were in Bali. Through my sleepy eyes I saw expanses of bright green rice terraces out of one window and on the other side of the bus Matt pointed out huge waves barreling just offshore. It was stunning. We drove through small villages and I was introduced to the charming stonework prevalent throughout island. Quaint yet chunky, the carved roof ornaments and idols made for enchanting looking structures, each dotted in offerings of flowers, rice, and incense sticks.

We began to pass more buildings than fields and I knew our bus ride was almost over as we neared the city Denpasar, Bali’s transportation hub. At Denpasar we hopped off the bus and onto a bemo—a modified van with benches along the sides instead of the usual rows of seats. After about 10 minutes our driver pulled over and flagged down another bemo heading further inland to Ubud, our final stop, to take us the rest of the way. To our driver’s dismay, he wasn’t able to find any extra passengers along the way, but I was glad to have the bemo to ourselves and not have to shift the luggage to make room for other people. I enjoyed the scenery as we left the town and drove into smaller villages in the middle of rice fields, some specializing in a single craft such as stone carving or silversmithing. Eventually workshops gave way to gift shops, and we had arrived in Ubud. By the time we checked into a hotel in Ubud, it had been about 24 hours since leaving our last one in Yogya. And we’re looking forward to staying here, for a few days at least.

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